


and it's over, and i'm goin' under

by mockturtletale



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, total failure to make feelings clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that’s the story of how Kaner finds himself slumping down to the floor against his best friend’s front door, shaking a little and half covered in goosebumps. Sporting a semi and fighting the urge to cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it's over, and i'm goin' under

**Author's Note:**

> This story is being re-added to the archive in 2014 with this important disclaimer: 
> 
> This was originally written in 2011, and it was my first hockey rpf story. My hockey understanding here was probably way off. My characterization has definitely without a doubt come a long way since what you see here. I neither recommend nor defend my decision to refer to these characters by their nicknames. ETC. 
> 
> Original notes: 
> 
> Working title: 5 Times Tazer Doesn’t Have To Look Down (His Nose) At Patrick Kane and The First (Of Many) Times Kaner Looks Up To Him.
> 
> For (and due in exceedingly large part to) liketheroad.
> 
> {Please note that the dates and locations referenced herein are not at all times featured in the exact order in which they truly occurred.}

The day before they play the Canucks Tazer and Kaner hang back at the gym. The new and improved slightly more serious but still fun (not fun-sized, fuck you Toews) Kaner puts in the hours and then some these days. He stays behind because his wrist had felt a little off during practice. Not exactly twinging or hurting, but after the surgery he sometimes finds that he can’t force his hand to react quite as fast as he expects it to, and it throws him off, makes him a little crazy until he feels like he’s worked the kink out. 

Tazer’s here because he’s Tazer, Kaner assumes. Because he’s an uptight, obsessive asshole who has nothing better to do than wage war on his own body because he’s his only real competition anyway. At least that’s why Kaner thinks he’s still here. He doesn’t like to look too closely into Tazer’s motivations because he doesn’t like to put himself through unnecessarily depressing mental stress. It’s not good for his game. 

Tazer’s certainly not here for the conversation because he doesn’t speak to Kaner once, barely looks at him if he can help it. They work their way through their usual routines twice, knowing enough about how the other works to slow down or speed up whatever they’re working on to keep to the circuit neither of them verbally committed to. Whatever. It works. Tazer shoots him a look when he finds Kaner didn’t wipe down the bike he used, glaring at Kaner across the gym exactly like Kaner had hoped he would. He looks up at him again a little later with raised eyebrows when Kaner has to drop a weight too quickly, too loud when his hand starts to ache from working it too hard but that’s all it is and he shakes his head at Tazer in response, a gesture he hopes clearly conveys the point that he’s fine so Tazer should just fuck off and get back to ignoring him. 

Kaner finishes up before Tazer does, not wanting to push himself too hard, but instead of heading to the showers he hoists himself up onto a table and sits there watching Tazer, just because he knows it’ll piss him off. Tazer’s near the end of his set, practically growling at the bike now, and Kaner fights back a smile. He doesn’t know Tazer has even noticed him watching until he stops cycling and sits back, eyes snapping up to meet Kaner’s. 

“What?” he asks, stretching out his arms but making no move to get off the bike. 

“What what?” Kaner says, grinning, because he’s an asshole. 

“Why are you fuckin’ staring at me?” 

“Is it annoying you?” Kaner asks, sick syrupy sweetness and smiles, already delighted about the fact that it clearly is. 

Tazer jumps down from the bike and moves quickly across the room, all business all the time. He doesn’t pause until he’s right up in Kaner’s space, standing between his spread thighs and Kaner doesn’t react - won’t ever react first - so he looks down at Tazer where he’s standing an inch shorter than Kaner now and doesn’t do much of anything at all, definitely doesn’t give in to the sudden urge to pull his knees in tight around Tazer’s waist. But Tazer just reaches behind him for a water bottle and pokes him in the forehead before walking away. 

“Everything you do annoys me, Kaner,” he says over his shoulder, monotone in full force. 

Kaner’s smile starts to falter but then he remembers the look of horrified disgust on Tazer’s face when he’d sat down in Kaner’s butt sweat and that had been a thing of pure glory so he’s grinning again when he hops down to follow him. 

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Tazer gives him nothing but perfect passes the next morning at practice. No verbal abuse, no mock-congratulatory golf clap when Kaner dumps in a truly hideous garbage goal, nothing. 

Kaner isn’t sure why he expected different - why he thought things would just change again - but maybe he’d hoped for a second that if nothing at all could make Jonny suddenly so cold and distant then maybe whatever he’d tried to do last night in the gym - whatever he’d tried to force there - would tap it all back into place as easily as it had fallen apart. Like maybe if he refused to acknowledge the fact that things were different now and acted exactly like he always had before, Tazer would just follow suit and they’d be them again. 

Clearly he’d been wrong. 

And now he feels dumb for trying, for hoping. 

But Tazer keeps giving him nothing _at all_ , and that’s just not okay - Kaner has at the very least earned some kind of reaction. That perfect little frayed knot that only Kaner can manage to make of him - he’s worked hard for that, and if Tazer thinks he can take it back now then he might just be as dumb as he looks sometimes without that determined frustration making his face hard and sharp - when he for some reason unbeknownst to god or Kaner himself finds reason to smile or even _laugh_ at something Kaner says or does and his face just opens right up, leaving Kaner momentarily stunned and proud and completely silent for once. Those times are kind of the worst because it’s like Kaner doesn’t realize until after that look on Jonny’s face makes pride swell up inside him warm and happy that it’s a really rare thing, something he misses more or less all the time even when he doesn’t think to acknowledge its absence. By and large Jonny marches around looking angry and all-knowing and it’s not accurate and it’s also a pain in Kaner’s ass because Tazer makes even impending brutality look good and it’s not fair, it’s not cute and it’s not right.

Way back when during their rookie reign, Kaner had actually worried for a while that he was so fascinated by Tazer’s facial expressions and face in general and more or less all of his everything else in its entirety because it was like an envy thing, aspiration or whatever. Thankfully that terrifying crisis had been averted when it had been pointed out to Kaner - and very crudely indeed Captain Toews; what _would_ your mother say if she could hear you now - that as a general rule no, dudes do not tend to jerk off thinking about their heroes. It’s not like Kaner had named names, he is all kinds of tactful and subtle and shit thank you very much, but still, an unintentionally and surely accidentally helpful assertion from Tazer, what are the odds. 

So Kaner’s into Jonny in a big gay way and that’s manageable, mostly. It’s not like he hasn’t been bearing this cross and feeding it pucks for his entire adult life to date, it’s not that big a deal. They play hockey together beautifully, they set up and score goals that would make fat baby angels weep and the whole league goes home after every ‘Hawks game and cries themselves to sleep over the fact that they’re not one half of the PKane/Cpt.Tayves scoring _machine_ and PKane goes home and jerks off thinking about his linemate, sometimes with a passing nod to the goals they score because he can recognize glory when he sees it and even demi-gods have needs. 

The point is - Kaner deals with it. 

Mostly by pissing Tazer off just enough to make him look at Kaner like he’s trying to hurt him with his eyes but not enough to make him take that to a physical place, because Tazer is kind of disturbingly strong for such a lithe, graceful fellow. The fine line between the two is Kaner’s happy place. 

So the fact that Tazer has disappeared completely lately is about as far from okay as things get between them. Whether Tazer is lying on Kaner’s couch lecturing him about his inadequacies as a hockey player and human being while they play video games that Kaner purposely sucks at for this exact reason - or swearing at Stals in a very un-leader-like manner for letting Kaner hide behind him when Tazer has clear and imminent plans to disembody him, they’re always together and that’s the point. Tazer can’t just decide he doesn’t need a best friend anymore. That’s not how it works. And Kaner without Tazer kind of doesn’t work period. He gets bored and lonely and he bothers people who don’t have the patience or skill necessary to deal with him and it’s bad times for everyone, basically. Except Captain Toews, who seems to be just fine, if even less human than normal recently. It’s not like he’s suddenly developed the ability to feel feelings or anything drastic like that, but he does seem more intently focused lately, and that’s all well and good for game time, but if Kaner can be a powerhouse on the ice and a fun guy off of it, he figures it’s not too much to ask that Tazer maybe crack a smile for something other than winning face-offs he doesn’t even take. 

Tazer needs to remember how to pretend to be happy and Kaner needs to not have to worry that he has somehow fucked this friendship up, because Jonny is his favorite person and it’s a lot harder to pretend that he isn’t in love with him when he can’t look at his stupid face all day every day, because Kaner’s life is nothing if not immensely difficult and unpredictably strange. 

Kaner very graciously afforded Tazer the entire summer to deal with his shit. He didn’t run around after him when he stopped returning Kaner’s calls, and although now he thinks maybe he should have, he’s also pretty okay with his decision to spend his summer being a committed hockey player instead. Kaner has always been all about the game, but he has kind of coasted on his wealth of natural talent in the past when he could get away with it and his wrist surgery had presented a particularly painful wake up call to the fact that he is not in fact superhuman. So it had been a good time to end up with more or less no sense of direction in his life and Kaner had been able to channel his frustrations into a decent amount of muscle mass after spending most of his off-season donating his blood, sweat and tears to the worthy and oft-debated cause of ‘Just What On Earth Is Jonathan Toews’ Problem?’

He’s still no closer to an answer now, but he’s at the top of his game and he’s impressing everyone _but_ Tazer with his renewed, rigorous display of single-minded commitment to all things hockey so he thinks it’s about time his Captain at least acknowledge his existence, even if the chances of him rewarding Kaner’s efforts the way he wants range between ‘never ever gonna happen’ and ‘that isn’t even physically possible’. 

He kills it at practice that day. He would say he owns it - but really a more accurate description of what happens is that he takes it, owns it, and sells it back to you - because he is an artist on ice, he truly is. The things he can do with a puck sometimes amaze even him; for example he will never so long as he lives know how he manages to hit himself in the face with the puck, but since he then catches said puck on his stick in mid air and roofs it into the net from the red line Tazer can fuck right off because it’s totally inappropriate and unfair that Tazer’s laughter has him nearly falling off the bench even after Kaner has scored - when laughter should have become awed silence or hushed reverence or at the very least raucous, rapturous applause. 

When Kaner skates over Jonny tosses him a water bottle, still half laughing and grinning and it’s a really fucking good look for him. Kaner scowls and thinks maybe today will be the day he finally chews right through a mouthguard, but he can’t help smiling back, a little thrilled to see Tazer direct that kind of expression at him even if it’s mean, delighted amusement instead of the ecstatic, aroused swooning Kaner feels he really deserves. He’s been working on it, but he hasn’t quite mastered any kind of reaction to Jonny’s smiling face that isn’t what he’s sure has to be a truly dopey looking grin, all blissed out and shit because Kaner sucks at acting, see youtube for further extensive confirmation of this. His absolute inability to be anything even approaching coy is why he has to look away when Tazer leans forward with his elbows on the boards. Kaner kind of wants to press himself right in against them, wonders what it’d be like to look down at Jonny smiling up at him like that and know there’s nothing but the wall and half a dozen layers of clothes and padding between them. That kind of intimacy is all he’s looking for, here. 

So really he has no choice but to do what he does best and ruin this potentially poignant moment, because Kaner knows for a fact that the only effective way to deal with the sudden and unexpected arrival of feelings he has no idea how to begin dealing with is to layer them over with so much inappropriate and as tasteless as possible sentiment that he can’t feel anything but pride and the warm glow of his shining sense of humor. 

“If goals were scored on pure skill, you’d be fucked,” he says, leaning in against the boards on one hip, resolutely ignoring how Tazer moves away, shifts back on the bench and drops his elbows back down by his sides. 

“If anything about this game was scored on skill, you’d still be a virgin,” Tazer returns easily, and man does that hurt. He always has to make it about the fact that Kaner only ever gets hook ups because he’s an NHL star. It’s not like Kaner hasn’t realized and made his peace with this fact.

“Uh, fuck you?” he says, stung, and starts to turn to get back out onto the ice but nearly falls on his ass instead when Tazer shoots a hand out to grab him by the front of his practice jersey. He’s leaning forward again, leaning in and up into Kaner where he has him pulled right to the half boards, and Kaner could ugly cry about the fact that even when Jonny has dropped him like a hot potato and then kicked him under the fridge for oh about three months now, follows that dazzling display of true friendship with frosty recognition that at best warms to raking Kaner over old coals and then cruelly tries to trip Kaner on their home ice during practice, he still mostly just to make out with his face forever. But - 

“No thanks,” Jonny says, staring calmly right up into Kaner’s face, and Kaner reels. 

He stumbles as he skates away, takes longer to shake that off than he might a hit from Kronwall. 

He wishes Tazer had just checked him into the boards instead. 

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Kaner falls apart a little bit after that. 

Not in any kind of serious or obvious way, but anyone who really knows him can see he’s not okay. Which is to say that Tazer notices and doesn’t give a fuck, and Sharpy elbows him in the head after morning skate. He has his ‘I’m here for you, son’ face on though, which - fuck him. Kaner isn’t a kid anymore, he’s got this. 

Although what part of ‘having this’ is totally losing it against the Flames he’s not quite sure. 

Coming off of a 5-1 win against the Canucks, a game in which Kaner scores a goal _and_ hands Tazer an assist that basically constitutes scoring that goal himself too (Tazer gets a goal and an assist and chirps Kaner about the fact that his goal came on a power play because he’s a horrible best friend and the worst captain in the history of the sport - he doesn’t even deserve to have his name listed alongside Crosby’s as one of the youngest ever because he fucking sucks at it and Kaner makes sure he knows so) they take a couple of days off and yeah Kaner drinks a little more than he should because nothing but straight vodka seems to fill this swirling vortex of feelings he can’t even name in the pit of his stomach but he’s fine at practice and he’s feeling good as they head to the game and he warms up like a man on a mission and then he steps out onto the ice and nothing happens. 

It ends up 5 - 2. Tazer gets a couple of assists but Kaner feels like he can’t tap into anything happening out there. It’s like he’s playing a different game and Tazer doesn’t shout at him once, doesn’t yell at him to be better or list each and every one of Kaner’s mistakes in the last shift when they sit next to one another on the bench. Aside from the assists Tazer isn’t playing so hot either and it’s painfully and embarrassingly obvious that they’re out of touch - dropping one another’s passes left right and center but nowhere near the crease. Kaner gets like this sometimes, generally when Jonny is being a primo douche-nugget and freezing him out, but even then it lasts for a shift or two until Tazer screams at him and he gets it back just to spite the fucker. Tonight Tazer just sits quietly next to him, stares in something like wonder at him down on the goal line as if he’s a figment of Tazer’s imagination. Tazer is quiet throughout the game, both on the ice and off and when they trudge back to the locker room he isn’t even angry enough to refuse to talk to the media, just spouts the usual about not deserving the win tonight but it’s so flat, so void of the only emotion Tazer knows how to affect and Kaner sits with his socks in his hands and watches Jonny’s throat work like he’s trying to swallow rocks. 

Kaner gets in his car after he’s one of the last to leave and he doesn’t remember making the decision, but doesn’t feel like there’s ever a point during the drive over to Jonny’s when he could have changed his mind either. He’s nothing if not a glutton for punishment and the pushiest asshole you’ll ever have the displeasure of caring for. So says Jonathan Tay-ves, the most difficult motherfucker to have a vested interest in since ….. well, no-one else that Kaner has ever had a vested interest in has been harder to care about than Jonny because Jonny is Canadian and his captain and an NHL player that he is in love with, so unless someone manages to be all of those things plus a serial killer or something he’s pretty sure this is one title Tazer won’t even have to break a sweat for. 

He’s half expecting Tazer to shut the door in his face, but when Kaner knocks he just takes ten years to answer, stares at him like he’s never seen him before in his life, and then shuffles to one side to let Kaner in. Which is bizarre, to say the least. The fact that he lets Kaner in at all - that is. Not that he tries to emulate the Kaner Shuffle in doing so, because Jonny has been jealous of his moves for forever, right alongside the rest of the league / world. 

Kaner follows Tazer through to the kitchen where he pauses to grab a half full bottle of Smirnoff off the counter and then continues on into the living room. 

They sit in absolute silence for twenty minutes, passing the bottle back and forth between them and drinking the vodka straight because they’re grown ass men with no need for mixers. Unfortunately they are also professional athletes who don’t really drink enough or often enough to have any kind of tolerance for it, so they’re nearing wasted soon enough. 

Tazer gets up to turn on the tv and of course the channel is already (permanently) turned to TSN, and they’re just in time to catch replays from the game tonight. Tazer settles back down on the floor by Kaner’s feet instead of next to him on the couch and Kaner catches how he draws his knees up defensively and fists his hands in the folds of material at the knees of his sweatpants when they show one of the many passes on which they’d been completely out of sync tonight. 

Kaner kind of wants to put a hand on the back of his neck or thump him on the shoulder, something that says ‘I’m here for you, asshole’ without giving away the ‘and also in love with you’ part. 

He settles for making some kind of noise halfway between a grunt and a sneeze though. It works out okay, he thinks, because Jonny tips his head back against the cushion of the couch to look up at him and that part kind of sucks because his face is all sad and wide-eyed and endearing like he only gets when he’s a little hammered. He looks lost. He’s looking at Kaner like he’s waiting for Kaner to fix it, like there’s something Kaner can do that will make whatever the fuck is wrong with him right now better and Kaner would give anything to be able to. If he just knew what was wrong or what he can do to make Jonny see it’s not his fault, Kaner is entirely confident that his relentless efforts to be everything Tazer ever needs would pay off then and forever. 

But it’s not like Tazer is having relationship problems, as those generally don’t tend to occur where no relationships have probably ever existed. His family is the best ever and also more or less Kaner’s family too now so even if for some reason there was something going on there Kaner would know about it for sure. 

Which leaves hockey. 

And yeah, they sucked hardcore tonight but that was a personal thing not a team one so it makes zero sense to Kaner. The only time Tazer isn’t the best player out there is _never_ so the fact that he maybe seems to be blaming himself for Kaner’s shortcomings is both utterly fucking ridiculous and not at all surprising, considering who he’s talking about. 

And Kaner can admit that this one thing is all his fault - even though it’s really not - if it means Tazer will stop looking at him like that. 

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault,” Kaner says. 

Tazer blinks up at him like he didn’t hear him at all. 

“That was my problem. I’ll have it together for tomorrow. Swearsies,” he tries again, even though it’s not like he wasn’t trying to have it together tonight. He nods as it says it and maintains eye contact with Jonny, stays completely still and does everything he can to project a kind of sure confidence that he for once can’t say is true. But he’ll absolutely lie to Jonny if it’ll make him feel better. 

Jonny, meanwhile, is still staring at Kaner like he isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He has turned his face in against Kaner’s leg, his mouth almost but not quite brushing up against Kaner’s kneecap and his eyes are fucking huge - it’d be funny how he looks like a deer caught in headlights if he wasn’t somehow managing to take that look and steady it and channel it like some kind of horrible pained anguish that is far quicker to make Kaner feel like throwing up than the alcohol on an empty stomach that’s already making his head swim. 

Kaner throws caution to the wind then - something he’s inclined to do whether or not he’s three sheets to it - and lets himself wind a hand into Jonny’s hair, push his fingers through where Jonny’s bangs are just starting to grow out and smooth them away from his face. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, after they sit like that for what feels like a year, Jonny not once looking away from him, barely blinking. 

“It’s nothing,” Jonny says, finally. 

“That’s a lie,” Kaner counters, and Jonny agrees easily. 

“Yeah,” he says, sadly, but managing a ghost of a smile for Kaner anyway. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Kaner asks, because feelings are not his forte, and Jonny knows this, so if bearing that in mind he still wants to talk to Kaner about it then Kaner is made of ears. 

But Jonny chooses then to look away, moving closer to Kaner and hiding his face in against his knee. 

“Not to you,” he says, muffled and slow and sounding the exact opposite of how it feels. 

Kaner tenses and Jonny feels it, turns to look at him again. 

“I just meant … you’re the last person I wanna talk to about this,” he offers, like it’s not the worst possible thing he could have just said - like he almost expects it to mollify Kaner, or lessen the blow, which - 

“Fuck you,” Kaner says, and he shoves Jonny away from him, kicks at him as he gets up and grabs his coat off the back of the couch and storms out into the foyer, but Jonny follows him, stays at his heels until they reach the front door and there he pauses, like he’s waiting to see what Kaner’s gonna do. And Kaner would love nothing more than to turn right back around and punch Jonny in his sad, stupid fucking face, but he doesn’t have the energy for him and his shit anymore, he doesn’t fucking _need_ this, so he leaves. 

Or tries to, anyway. Jonny’s hand on the door stops him, even when Kaner tries to shoulder his arm out of the way and wrench the door open. He keeps struggling until Jonny leans in and Kaner feels his forehead fall to rest in on Kaner’s shoulder. Kaner starts to turn, but Jonny’s free hand comes up and winds around his waist and Jonny seems to have taken Kaner’s pause as some kind of permission for Jonny to … hug him. Up against his front door. From behind. Which certainly wasn’t how Kaner had envisioned their first real emotional bonding moment happening _or_ what he’d imagined them doing in this position up against a vertical surface, but it’s Jonny, so nothing really surprises Kaner anymore. 

It makes absolutely no sense to him that Jonny wants to basically call him a shitty friend but then hug him five seconds later when Kaner wants to hit him, but feeling how Jonny is kind of trembling where he’s wrapped both arms around Kaner now makes all of that seem a whole lot less important. 

Kaner lays his cheek against Jonny’s door and brings his hands up to grip Jonny’s where they’re holding Kaner back against him and they stay like that for a minute, Jonny hugging him and Kaner holding his hands, but it doesn’t feel like either of those things, it doesn’t feel like anything nearly so strange or simple. 

Eventually Kaner has to ask - 

“Seriously, Jonny, are you okay?” 

And Tazer laughs weakly against his shoulder. He seems to have stopped shaking though, and when he sighs as he rubs his cheek against the seam of Kaner’s tshirt it sounds … better, surer. 

“No. But I will be. I promise,” he says, dragging his nose up into the hair behind Kaner’s ear and speaking softly against the side of Kaner’s throat. 

And then he pulls away and opens the door and pushes Kaner gently out, before shutting it again. Kaner hears his footsteps move away from the door and he’s never been so thankful for anything in his life as he is that he didn’t have to turn to face Jonny to say goodbye. 

And that’s the story of how Kaner finds himself slumping down to the floor against his best friend’s front door, shaking a little and half covered in goosebumps. Sporting a semi and fighting the urge to cry. 

He calls a cab and stands outside Tazer’s building in the freezing cold without putting his coat on and when he gets home he crawls into bed still fully clothed and wrapped tight in things he can’t even begin to put a name to. 

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

When they face the Oilers again it’s their first game back home after a long and difficult roadtrip and Kaner ends up spending more minutes in the box than he gets shots on goal. He racks up an assist but the Oilers don’t let up and they never get a chance to find their feet. Being exhausted after a trip is no excuse to lose to a team they beat the pants off not even a week ago and Kaner doesn’t want to say he panics, but it’s something like that - his frustration boiling over when he gets two penalties in the second period - the latter of which is the kind of bullshit call that makes him want to punch someone in the face just to fucking earn the minutes. He feels trapped in the middle, trapped in his team that’s falling away around him - can’t keep it together long enough to let him be useful, to make anything of the chances he’s running himself into the ice to set up. Sitting on the bench watching his guys skate in circles Kaner almost chews through his mouthguard and thinks hysterically that maybe this is how Jonny feels all the time - maybe this is what it’s like to be captain. He kind of feels like an asshole for all the shit he gives Tazer if he’s walking around under this crushing weight of responsibility all the time. It’s no fucking wonder the guy is so stiff. Every time Kaner jumps back on he feels like he’s chewing lightning and he comes off lost, spitting static he can’t find a way to ground. The frustration of not gelling only makes each of them more keyed up and reckless, desperate for the kind of chemistry that can’t be forced like this. 

Kaner still kind of wants to punch someone. 

Anyone. Maybe Tazer, just because. Tazer’s pretty obviously pissed too, but it’s different because it’s just like always. Except when Kaner throws himself down on the bench next to Tazer and throws him a ‘hey asshole sorry your life is so hard’ elbow Tazer doesn’t even hit him back. He’s seething quietly in that ‘i can’t look at you right now because if I do I might set you on fire with my eyes’ way of his and for some reason that makes Kaner even angrier. They’re being crucified, played off their own ice by the fucking _Oilers_ and all Kaner’s trying to do is both fix that and tell Tazer that he maybe gets it a little now and Tazer won’t even talk to him, is acting like it’s just another practice where Kaner is letting himself be limited by his human capabilities as usual. Because that’s genuinely A Thing Tazer bitches him out for and Kaner can’t believe this - can’t believe he’s actually madder than Jonny right now, trying _harder_ than him. Playing at center has both opened Kaner’s eyes to the kind of responsibility he didn’t realize he hadn’t been ready for, and had done so when he’s playing on a line with people who aren’t Tazer so yeah he’d struggled a little at first, sorry he’s not made of solid gold like Tazer but he’s worked his shit out now and he’s _got_ this like he’s never really had an opportunity to have it before and he’s just trying to do whatever the fuck he can to salvage this game and maybe get Tazer to acknowledge the fact that he’s got his act together - that he’s fucking capable, because he’s Patrick Kane and he’s not a screw-up. 

But it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t work and they lose the game 9 - 2. 

Kaner wonders if there’s such thing as a throwing-up- _after_ -games ritual, or whether that’s about to be something he starts. 

The media are clamoring to talk to him and Tazer like always and Kaner gets through it on autopilot, looking at the floor and talking about how they weren’t good enough, how they have to be better, how they will be better. And he means all of that, but even as he hears himself say it it’s like listening to an echo, some far off sense of something that he knows he believes on some level and maybe tomorrow or the next day he’ll be able to really tap into the hopeful determination he’s affecting but right now he just wants to be by himself, wants an empty locker room or the quiet drive home to wallow and think and wallow about what he’s thinking. He hears Tazer say more or less the same things he’s said himself but he can’t listen beyond the point where Tazer’s voice cracks on a word, when he looks up then and sees the flush on Tazer’s cheeks that is half embarrassment, half anger, half the embarrassment of not being able to hide his anger. 

“That’s three halves, buddy,” Sharpy says and Kaner hadn’t noticed him come to sit next to him on the bench because he’d been focused on the swarm of reporters boxing Tazer in on the other side of the room. He definitely hadn’t noticed he’d been speaking out loud, but when he turns to look at Sharpy he realizes his mouth is dry and there’s a very deliberate distance of about three feet between him and the guys who usually change next to him - the guys who are now doubling up to share stall space away from him. Great. Now the whole team thinks _he’s_ lost his mind. 

“We sucked out there, but you’re …. you’re taking this pretty hard,” and it pisses Kaner off that Sharpy says this with such caution, that he’s handling him with kid gloves like this. He’s a grown fucking man and he played so hard tonight he’s still struggling to get his breathing under control and it didn’t fucking matter because he couldn’t do anything to stop them getting thrashed. But when he turns around to bite Sharpy’s head off he’s looking at him with the kind of concern Kaner is used to seeing in the mirror when he’s dealing with Tazer mid free-fall into The Dark Place and that stops him short, leaves him slumping forward with his head in his hands and the wind knocked out of him all over again. Sharpy drops a warm, heavy hand on his back and leaves it there between his shoulder blades till Kaner gets it together. 

“I just … couldn’t fucking do anything,” he says finally. 

“I can’t defy the fucking laws of physics and I …. I felt … useless,” he admits. 

Kaner doesn’t talk about his feelings - doesn’t like to admit he even _has_ feelings, but what few people know is that Kaner is so obviously Sharpy’s favorite because on the occasion of his having to admit he feels like shit Sharpy is the one to catch that. The guy is one of the most successfully, relentlessly irritating people Kaner has ever met and yeah that’s part of why they get along so well, but when he loses it Sharpy knows how to be quiet and listen and not judge and that’s all Kaner needs, when shit gets so bad that he needs it at all. It’s not that he thinks he couldn’t talk to Tazer because they’re best friends, and he knows they both pick up on it when something’s not right with either of them but they don’t ever talk about their feelings. Mostly, Kaner thinks, because they’re too similar and yet nothing at all alike. Kaner wouldn’t know how to make Jonny feel better about anything, and most of Kaner’s problems are somehow to do with Jonny. Almost everything that leaves his stomach in knots relates back to a fear of disappointing him, and Kaner feels like telling him this would in itself mean disappointing him somehow. So Sharpy gets the brunt of it. And never bitches about it, because he’s a great fucking human being and Kaner wishes he could stop trying to hold himself up against that sometimes - only ever had compare himself to what Sharpy does on the ice because they’re pretty evenly matched out there even if Sharpy has a lot on him just in terms of being a good person. But that works in Kaner’s favor at times like this, so he can’t be bitter about it. 

“He’s Captain for a reason, Kaner. And not because he’s better than you, or because he does more out there than you, but because he needs to be responsible for more than just himself, he wants to shoulder that, even on nights like this. And that doesn’t mean you’re not capable, or that he thinks that, it means … he doesn’t want you or the rest of us to ever have to. If you were in his position you’d be drowning yourself in the showers right now.” 

Sharpy tries to make it a joke, tries to lift Kaner’s spirits, and he sees that - he appreciates the effort. But hearing him talk about Tazer like that - about some idea of _them_ like that - sets his stomach roiling again. 

He doesn’t say anything and Sharpy claps his shoulder one last time before wandering off again and eventually the locker room empties out, reporters hurrying away en masse and guys trickling home to their families until Kaner looks up and realizes he’s totally alone. 

He wants to leave, he thinks. He doesn’t want to be here. But he doesn’t want to be at home either, can’t think of anywhere that seems like some place he might feel better. He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him but it’s like the game doesn’t matter so much anymore, it’s just one piece of the puzzle that Kaner can see now, and it’s a picture of how fucking deathly terrified he is of being on his own, of his dependence on this team and his lines and Tazer. Feeling like he’d lost that connection on the ice just for one game set it off in him, but it’s something that’s been building for a long time. He doesn’t know how to feel better about it, because it’s not something he can change. This is how playing as part of a team works and this is _why_ it works but feeling like this about it, being afraid to lose it is ridiculous, even for him. He knows they’ll get it back, he knows they’ll be better and he knows what they’re capable of but maybe tonight rang up that ache that’s been setting into the distance between him and Tazer and maybe he should start admitting to himself that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses him. It’s not like Kaner has been trying hard to bridge the gap, he hasn’t been pushing for them to fall back into how they were because he can’t bring himself to force them there again if that’s not what Tazer wants and he thinks the fact that Tazer isn’t pushing means exactly that. 

Kaner rises slowly to his feet and stays still long enough to make sure he isn’t going to throw up after all but when he thinks he’s finally got it under control Tazer walks in. He’s still not completely dry from his shower, wearing jeans and a black tshirt and a baseball cap tugged down low over his eyes but he fidgets with the brim when he starts to cross the room to Kaner, pushing it down further over the back of his skull so that it sits higher on his forehead and Kaner can see that stupid red mark from his helmet that always stays there for like an hour after every game. Kaner kind of needs to sit down again. 

Tazer skirts the logo in the middle of the floor and comes to stand in front of Kaner, toe to toe with him. 

“You okay, bud?” he asks, and Kaner does need to sit down then. He drops back onto the bench and his fingers curl under the edge of it. 

“I’m fine, man,” he says, but it sounds like a question. 

He can’t look at Tazer, stares at his feet instead, and it’s ridiculous that Tazer is still walking around barefoot, where did he go when the locker room cleared out and why is he back again, why is he here now when Kaner can’t deal with his face. He wants to do something incredibly childish like maybe ask Tazer why he cares and what’s it to him, but more than that he doesn’t want to say or do anything at all. He’s so tired all of a sudden, exhausted and aching and he wants to be at home in his bed with nothing to do but sleep and not think. 

“You played well tonight,” Tazer says, still standing over him, and Kaner can’t believe this, he honestly can not believe that Tazer is choosing to tell him he was good enough on a night when they lost 9-2 to the Oilers. 

“We lost, Tazer,” he spits through gritted teeth and then Tazer is sighing and dropping to his knees in front of Kaner, leaning up into him with his hands on Kaner’s knees and Kaner stops being angry or terrified for a second - he’s completely focused on feeling absolutely nothing at all right now because if he lets one reaction through it’ll set the rest tumbling out after it and he can’t face that now or ever. 

Tazer’s fingers are digging in around Kaner’s kneecaps, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Yeah. We all lost. And you did your best. You did better than any of us and we let you down, we all let the team down. But we’ll be better next time. We’re better than that, Kaner. That wasn’t us out there,” and this is nothing at all like Tazer’s usual Captain speeches, this is pained and determined and raw like Tazer never lets any of them see him be and he’s putting it out there now for _Kaner_ , to make Kaner feel better. 

“Just because we were like that once doesn’t mean we’ll be like that always - it doesn’t even mean it’ll be like that ever again. We’re having a bad run. And this was the worst of it. You’re still doing your best. Nothing changes that. Even if it feels shitty, we’re not doomed. You’re not trapped. Things will change.” 

That should make Kaner feel better. And it does because Jonny is telling him that even when shit is this bad the team is still there for him like he’s there for them and if they keep doing their best this has to get better. That’s classic Captain Serious branded Common Sense from his chapter on Never Accepting or Even Acknowledging The Possibility of Defeat, specifically the subsection Being Better. 

Kaner feels like he’s caught between a rock and the middle of a losing streak, though. It settles him to hear Tazer slip back into his regular habits, to fall back on being Captain instead of just Jonny, but that’s also part of what’s terrifying him. It’s like #88 just wants to hear Tazer tell him that everything will be okay, that they’re gonna play here together for the ‘Hawks for another decade and break every personal record there is and bring the Cup home five more times. But Kaner wants to hear Jonny tell him that no matter what happens with the team they’ll always be okay, and that how they’ve been lately was just a phase, just a streak that they’re about to break. 

Either way he can’t win. No matter which he gets, it’s not it _all_ and Kaner hates himself for wanting so much from Jonny. He carries the weight of having to constantly choose between one or the other like some twisted chunk of regret for mistakes he hasn’t even made - dread that no amount of goals or trophies can work loose. He works hard and then he works harder and he never for a second stops trying, but he’s exhausted. Even now, after everything he’s done to be good enough without Jonny, to be enough besides, he just wants to fall back in next to him and say ‘I did it, I don’t need you’ and have it be okay that even after, he still wants him. 

“I know,” he says finally, making the decision. 

“We’ll be fine. Three days to get our shit together,” and Kaner almost believes himself, almost buys into the idea that if they can sort themselves out on the ice that’ll fix whatever’s broken here, will re-sync everything that’s getting lost between the hands on his knees and how he used to feel them down to the bone. He knows he can’t have both. That balance broke, and now he has to choose. 

“We’ll be great,” Tazer says, and it’s wishful thinking to wonder if it sounds like he isn’t only talking about the team, but maybe wishes are all Kaner has now, so he stops worrying for a second and finds he has just about has the energy to smile and nod. 

Something about that must still look off to Tazer though, because he frowns and shuffles forward on his knees, right into the space between Kaner’s thighs. 

“C’mere you little jerk,” he says gruffly and then he’s tugging at Kaner’s shirt, wrapping his arms up around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. 

Kaner goes, tips forward into Tazer’s hold and only clings to him a little bit, one hand over his ribs and the other finding the curve of Tazer’s shoulder blade, warm through his shirt. Kaner wants to let his fingers trace the angle under his palm, to follow the rise and fall of every inch of skin and bone across Tazer’s body, to see if he can find something there that Tazer isn’t telling him, something that explains where he’s gone and shows Kaner how to get him back. 

But he’s here right now and that’s enough. 

They stay like that for a long moment and then Tazer pulls away, dusts his jeans off and sits down next to Kaner. 

“About those three days. Q kind of arranged for the team to fly out to Vegas for a couple days, some kind of team bonding exercise.” 

Kaner’s face falls at the idea of leaving again when they just got home, when all he wants is his bed and to not have to be around Tazer when he’s got thirty other people to ignore Kaner in favor of. 

“But I .. uh … I asked if we could stay back? We just got here and I thought maybe after tonight we’d want to get in a little extra ice time, work some stuff out…..” 

“We?” Kaner asks, and he kind of holds his breath waiting for the answer because Kaner should be practicing with his linemates and Tazer with his, even if they’re always better at running drills together and -

“Uh … you and me,” Tazer says, with this weird little grimace on his face that Kaner could almost mistake for a sheepish smile. 

“Oh.” 

“You don’t have to, I mean you could go if you want to, it’s Vegas and uh … that maybe might be something you’re gonna wanna do, so ...” 

“No! Jesus! I can’t think of anything worse than going out of town again right now,” Kaner basically yells, because relief is soothing away every jagged edge of everything about tonight and before and setting up a beautiful pass for manic excitement at the prospect of getting to spend a couple of days hanging out with Tazer because Tazer _asked for that_. 

Tazer laughs and pulls him up off the bench, leans back to grab Kaner’s bag and drops it heavily on his shoulder, pushing Kaner out the door ahead of him. 

“How about Hossa in a thong?” 

“Nope. No way.” 

“Being Duncs’ dentist for a day?” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“Having to live with Stalberg.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve lived with _you_.” 

“Oh so that’s how it is, eh? That hurts, Kaner.” 

Tazer shoves him face first into his car after they say goodbye and part ways with plans for Tazer to call him in the morning and Kaner drives home singing along to the radio loudly and off key the whole way. 

It’s only when he’s drifting off to sleep that he realizes they lost tonight and he’s been smiling ever since he left the arena. 

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Kaner’s still smiling when he wakes up. 

He lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling thinking about nothing in particular but somehow still all things that relate back to Jonny. 

It’s early enough that the sun is at its very brightest, filling the room with such full and soft light that Kaner’s entirely glad he forgot to close the curtains last night. The sun is warm where it falls across his bed and he turns his face into it, closing his eyes and feeling the heat of it swell in tandem inside him, growing bright in his chest like hope, all new and shiny. 

He has to turn over and bury his face between his pillows so he doesn’t feel like a giant loser for laughing delightedly at himself first thing in the morning. 

Jonny and his impeccable as ever timing startle him out of his daze. 

“Hi!” 

“.............Kaner?” 

“Yes? You did call me? What the fuck?” 

“You sound … awake.” 

Only Jonny could fit both disappointment that he was wrong about something and surprise that someone has managed to surprise him into a tone utterly devoid of inflection. Kaner sometimes feels sorry for the guy. It must be truly hard work being that spectacularly fucked up. 

“I’ve been awake for hours, man.” 

“You’re still in bed.” 

Which - fucked up _and_ freakily intuitive. Maybe they should have gone to Vegas after all, Tazer could have used his powers for good instead of evil, won them a shit load of money at the casinos and bought Kaner his own amusement park or something. That would be pretty cool, Kaner thinks. But then he remembers that they’re pretty fucking rich as is, so all’s well that ends in a universe in which he and his best friend are wealthy, successful, talented, super hot dudes. 

“Yes. Yes I am.” 

“Get up, man, I’m sitting outside.” 

Tazer hangs up before Kaner has time to call him a creepy bastard. Who drives to someone’s house first thing in the morning and sits outside waiting for them to wake up? He could have at least broken in and sat watching Kaner sleep or something, talk about fucking lacklustre. There is no romance in Kaner’s life, and it’s a sad thing. 

He hops into the shower and takes forever just to piss Tazer off but by the time he wanders downstairs Tazer just has the windows rolled down and one arm resting out in the sun and he appears to be humming along with the radio. 

Kaner gives him a look that must convey his surprise at the sights that await him this morning when he gets into the car because Tazer punches him on the shoulder so lightly that it’ll probably only bruise for a week, and says good morning like it really is good, like this is something he’s honestly pleased about. 

Kaner very wisely says nothing but milks this opportunity for all it’s worth and dares to pull his feet up onto the seat and rest his knees against the dashboard. 

All in all, it really is a good morning. 

They get to the rink and it’s more or less empty with the whole rest of the team and most of the staff gone. When they step out onto the ice together it’s like the heavens open up and spill glory all the fuck over them, Kaner half expects to look behind him and see he’s sprouted wings. They’re just running through the basic drills and then taking practise shootout shots on the empty net, but neither of them make a single mistake in two hours, hitting every target dead on and circling around one another like they’re magnetized out there, connecting on passes Kaner didn’t even know he was about to make. 

Kaner doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tazer _smile_ after a practice, but he’s full on grinning by the time they hit the showers. Mostly naked and happy is a criminally good look for him, and Kaner’s celestial mood gets a little tarnished, he’s ashamed to say. 

It’s edging into early afternoon by the time they’re leaving and Kaner doesn’t want to waste today - it feels like they have the whole city to themselves even though the streets are full and bustling with people, they’re strangers and he and Jonny have the day to themselves. So when Tazer drops him back at his place Kaner asks if he wants to come up. 

“Nah,” Tazer says easily, and Kaner’s stomach twists. 

“Grab your fuckin’ nightie and lets go to my place, it’s nicer than this dump you call a home,” Tazer continues, and Kaner doesn’t even get him back for that swipe. He practically skips up the stairs to his apartment and throws god knows what into a gym bag before heading back out. 

They both sing along to some godawful pop music on the drive over to Tazer’s, and Kaner is hard pressed to think of the last time he was this happy. 

But as the afternoon wears on Kaner can feel them fall further out of sync, like they left what they had going back at the United Center. They sit next to one another on the couch and play video games and Kaner tries so hard to keep the space at bay, to sit closer to Tazer than is strictly necessary and fall all over him when he wins, to push and shove at him as they play, to throw friendly elbows and pinch him when Tazer wins. His efforts somehow manage to make it worse though, and by early evening Tazer is squashed into the far couch cushions like he’s cowering from Kaner. 

Kaner pauses the game and ignores Tazer’s “What the fuck!” because even that is half-hearted, said through gritted teeth and he hasn’t turned to look at Kaner in about an hour and Kaner is so fucking sick of this shit. He’s tired and he’s angry and they’re gonna sort this out tonight, he doesn’t even fucking care if it kills one or both of them. They can’t keep doing this. They’re spinning from ‘totally cool’ to ‘not fine at all’ so often and so quickly that Kaner is fucking emotionally dizzy or something, he hasn’t got a clue which way is up and he needs to know where they stand so he knows what he’s working with here, what tides he has to fight to get them back to how they were. 

He takes the controller out of Tazer’s hands and sets both under the coffee table and out of reach. 

“We need to talk about this,” he begins. 

“Fuck you no we fucking don’t,” Tazer says. 

“So there _is_ something?”

Kaner shifts on the couch, pulls one foot up under himself and turns to face Tazer so he can get on with this inquisition in relative comfort. Like maybe if he’s sitting comfortably that’ll do something to stop his stomach turning to stone. 

“It’s nothing, Kaner,” Tazer tries, but nope, that won’t cut it so Kaner does what Kaner does best and completely ignores him. 

“Where would you like to start, Jonny? How about with whatever the fuck happened at the end of the season? Maybe where the fuck your head was during the off-season? How about where you’ve gone lately?,” and he’s being pushy, he’s being an asshole, but anyone who has known him for five seconds has absolutely no right to be suprised by that. 

“We’re not doing this,” Tazer says, and he tries to move off the couch, but Kaner is too quick for him, he’s small and agile like a fox and he pushes him back down into the cushions before he finds his feet. 

“Fucking quit it, Kaner,” Tazer says, angry now at least, as he shoves Kaner off. 

Kaner lets him go, but he’s not about to let this go. He follows Tazer into the kitchen and pulls himself up to sit on the counter right in Tazer’s way when he starts pulling out pots and pans to make himself something to eat, presumably. To make _them_ something to eat, hopefully. 

“Whatever it is, we can deal with it, man. Just stop fucking pulling away from me, stop disappearing on me,” Kaner says, and immediately feels like he’s just vomited on Tazer’s kitchen floor or maybe done something worse, something he hasn’t ever done before, because they don’t do that thing where they acknowledge that they care about one another, not really. 

Tazer pauses over the sink with a packet of pasta in one hand and the plastic crinkles in his grip when his fingers tighten into fists. He closes his eyes and leans on the counter next to Kaner and Kaner doesn’t think he’s breathing. This is bad. This is about as quiet and still as Kaner has ever seen Tazer and Kaner doesn’t know if he should hug him again or get the fuck out of here before Tazer starts pulling walls down with his hands, but he’s come this far, he’s not giving up now. 

“Seriously, Jonny,” he says, hushed and so serious, more serious than he’s ever been about anything. 

“No matter what, nothing has to change.” 

Tazer laughs, that horrible small, bitter sound that he’s been making more and more around Kaner lately, and it grates against Kaner’s teeth, leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

Tazer turns to him and opens his eyes, and Kaner feels pinned in place, frozen where he sits, sitting maybe an inch taller than Tazer on his kitchen counter. 

“Nothing?” Tazer asks, and Kaner doesn’t know what he’s asking, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say here, so he stays quiet. 

“What if that’s what we get left with, Kaner?” Tazer asks, and Kaner is still so so confused, but whatever Tazer is talking about seems super fucking serious, and he’s staring at Kaner like Kaner should have the answers. Kaner is ten kinds of lost right now, but somehow with the way Jonny is looking at him he feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

He reaches for Tazer, stretches his hand out across the sink to touch Tazer’s arm or something, he doesn’t even know, but it doesn’t matter then because Tazer drops the pasta into the sink and cups Kaner’s face in both of his hands and kisses him. 

Kaner feels like he’s waking up. He feels like whatever they were talking about just now, whatever they were saying and doing, wherever they were and whatever all of those things mean is completely and totally fucking irrelevant now, because Jonny is standing between his thighs and his fingers are pushing back into Kaner’s hair and he’s leaning up against him to press his mouth to Kaner’s like a secret. 

Nothing loud or insistent, just the deafening crush of his lips locked into Kaner’s. 

Kaner punches him. Pulls far enough back and socks him right under the collarbone. 

Jonny’s face crumbles as Kaner watches, his expression caving in, and he starts to walk away but Kaner gets a hand in his shirt and locks his knees around Jonny’s waist and says -

“You couldn’t even fucking let me have _this_?” 

“Kaner, what? I - I’m sorry, I -” 

“No. You’re not sorry. Not fucking nearly, but you will be. Stealing my fucking big gay crush thunder, jesus christ you’re such a selfish asshole you’re so fucking lucky you look like this...” Kaner rambles, but most of it is entirely unintelligible for how it’s murmured against Jonny’s mouth, pressed into the curve of his jaw and spoken softly against the rise of his adam’s apple. 

Jonny half kisses back, mostly stays still and lets Kaner press their faces almost blindly together, touching Jonny’s chin and his cheekbones and his forehead and the for once completely smooth space between Jonny’s eyebrows with his fingers and then his lips. Jonny only pulls away when Kaner starts to giggle, suddenly so utterly fucking thrilled with this day and this development and this guy standing in front of him that he can’t keep it in, can’t be still or stay quiet any longer. Jonny’s fingers are still in his hair, the heels of his hands shaking gently against Kaner’s jawbone but steadying when he pulls back to drop them to Kaner’s thighs, lets them start to wander up toward Kaner’s waist and back down under his ass. Kaner wriggles in his grip, beside himself with delight. 

“You … you too?” Jonny asks, and god he is so fucking dumb, how are they collectivelly _this_ stupid? 

“Duh,” Kaner says. 

“Really?” Jonny seems to find it necessary to try and give people every possible incentive and opportunity to backpedal in their attraction to him. Which, quite frankly, explains a lot. But - 

“Really really really,” Kaner says, and pulls him in again, fists his hands in the collar of his tshirt and kisses him with more feeling than Kaner suspects Tazer knows what to do with. 

“Okay, jeez, I believe you,” Jonny pants when Kaner finally lets him go.

“For how long?” Kaner is never ever going to get laid if Tazer has his way, it seems. But whatever, if talking about their feelings has got them this far, Kaner can get behind this. Balls to the wall, he thinks. 

“Would it be really lame to say ‘always’?” And the worst part is - it’s true. 

Thankfully Jonny doesn’t seem to be as horrified by feelings when they aren’t his own, because he smiles - that really dumb, pleased little grin of his that always makes Kaner feel like he’s forgotten how to breathe - and cups a hand around Kaner’s neck, rubs his thumb down into the dip between his collarbones and then looks up at Kaner with wide eyes like he’s expecting him to punch him again, like he’s not sure he’s allowed touch him like this. 

Kaner can deal with precisely no part of this. Jonny is looking at him with such care and reverence, such open, honest awe that Kaner’s heart pitches over into his stomach. 

“Always, Jonny,” he says again, and then they’re kissing, and Kaner has never felt anything like this, never felt anything even a little bit like this because he’s kissing Jonny and Jonny is kissing back and he’s straining up against Kaner, warm and solid along the insides of Kaner’s thighs and his hands are everywhere - pushing up under Kaner’s shirt and tugging at his hair where it’s starting to grow back into curls behind his ears, cupping his skull with gentle hands and then wrapping his fingers around Kaner’s wrists and trapping them back against the cabinets behind his head. 

It’s all Kaner can do to keep his knees tight up around Jonny’s waist and hold on. 

Kaner tips his head back because if Jonny doesn't stop _sucking_ on his tongue he's pretty sure he's going to swallow it or come in his pants. Jonny rolls with it and works his mouth down across the angle of Kaner's jaw, trails the tip of his nose along the line of Kaner's throat and slides his fingers up to lock in between Kaner's as he holds their joined hands together against the woodwork and teases the jut of Kaner's clavicle with the promise of teeth.

Kaner is roughly 80% sure that they're about to have really dirty awesome sex, so he arches into the touch and Jonny groans. Kaner feels it through every inch of his body when Jonny starts to suck a bruise into the hollow of his throat. He's never really been very good at this whole sex thing, because girls are weird and guys are hard to hook up with and even harder to be into when they're not Jonathan Toews. So this is already far and away the best thing that's ever happened to Kaner and by some miracle Tazer seems just as into it if the way they're getting hard against one another in their jeans is anything at all to go by, but he has to be sure, because if Tazer is gonna get him worked up like this and leave him hanging then Kaner will have to kick the shit out of him and that's just how it's gonna have to be.

“Tazer, Tay - _Jonny_ ,” he gasps, and yeah it's embarrassing but he doesn't care, he's so gone for this, so all about this dude forever that he couldn't give a fuck who hears about it right now.

This new found conviction of Kaner's increases tenfold when Jonny finally deigns to surface and his cheeks are flushed and his lips are full and wet and his eyes are so big and dark and he looks at Kaner like Kaner has never seen him look at anyone or anything else ever before, like every ounce of his focus is trained on Kaner – in approval, no less, and Kaner shudders with the jolt of arousal that rolls up through him at that, because -

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says with feeling.

Jonny grins, and it's a sharp, pleased little thing that Kaner feels right down to his toes, already curling against the counter in his socks.

“Right?” Jonny agrees, and seriously. If making out with Jonny is like this, then Kaner isn't going to survive the sex, but he's already won the Stanley Cup once in his lifetime so he can't bring himself to be too upset about it. Speaking of, though.

“We're gonna have sex now, right?” 

“Yeah? I … if you want to?” Jonny says, and Kaner would sprain something laughing at that if Jonny wasn’t being serious. 

“Are you serious? What the fuck? Because like five years isn’t long enough to wait?” But there’s no heat to Kaner’s words and he winds his arms around Jonny’s neck and pulls him in to rest comfortable against him even as he lets his legs drop back down against the counter. 

“You don’t think we should like …. go on a date, first?” Jonny asks, but Kaner knows he’s teasing. He has to be, because their entire friendship so far has been one big never ending date and everyone knows it. 

“Shut up and carry me to bed,” Kaner says, wrapping as much of himself around Jonny as he can. Jonny humors him for a second, lifting his weight off the counter and holding him up with strong hands gripping his ass and Kaner gets a little lightheaded because even though Jonny ribs him about his size every hour of the day he’s never actually felt like he was noticeably smaller and now that he does he finds he kind of likes it. 

No way is he letting Jonny drop him and leave him concussed and benched for these sexcapades though, so he hops down himself and channels everything it takes to move out from where Jonny is crowding him against the counter now, taller and so warm where he’s pressed right up along Kaner, seemingly unwilling to stop touching him for a second now, a problem which Kaner can sympathize with. But he at least manages to pull it together enough to multi-task, getting Jonny by the wrist and tugging him back toward Jonny’s bedroom. He finds he really really likes the idea that they’re about to have sex in Jonny’s bed. Jonny has never even let him sleep there before, and now he’s about to get fucked in it, hopefully. This is the pinnacle of Kaner’s life, he suspects. 

He can’t stop grinning as he leads them up the stairs and when he pauses at the top Jonny steps up behind him and leans down to press his own smile into the side of Kaner’s neck. Kaner tilts his head to look up at him and he looks so happy, so utterly fucking _content_ \- like he wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else in the world right now. It’s a look Kaner only recognizes because it’s exactly how he feels then, the look on Jonny’s face welling up inside his chest like he’s so full of it he might burst open all over the carpet. It’s so fucking difficult to feel like that, so completely overwhelmed by all of this, so he does what seems to be the only thing that quiets it, that makes it make sense and sit right. He turns in Jonny’s arm and pulls him in, walking backwards until his back hits plaster and they’re moving in unison to get him pushed up against the wall. Jonny is all over him, reaching to hitch one of Kaner’s legs up against his waist so he can get closer still and Kaner’s pretty sure he sees stars when Jonny starts rocking into him, both of them hard now and it’s a little painful in jeans but also really fucking good friction and Kaner is making all kinds of dumb noises into Jonny’s mouth, pained, helpless little sounds that Jonny just gathers up on his tongue and swallows down. 

“Bed now,” Kaner says when he remembers how to use words and Jonny is nodding frantically even as he tries to follow Kaner’s mouth when he pulls away and starts toward the bedroom. He has to walk backwards the whole way because Jonny won’t let him turn around and Kaner can’t be bothered to break the hold he has on his hips when it’s that perfect kind of rough-enough-to-bruise that has Kaner jerking up into the touch. It takes a while, because Jonny keeps pushing him up against walls and doors and anything else they encounter along the way (Kaner is never going to be able to look at that mirror again without thinking of how it looks covered in handprints) but eventually Jonny manages to direct them to his room and get the door open without looking away from Kaner or taking his hands out from up under his shirt. He’s so talented. So multifaceted and capable, not to mention really unfairly attractive, and he’s Kaner’s best friend in the whole world and he has feelings for Kaner that Kaner completely returns and he doesn’t know how they’re gonna ever find time to play hockey again but he doesn’t really care when Jonny is actually trying to carry him to his bed right now. 

They’re laughing when they fall down onto the covers and Kaner has an absurd urge to lie here and make sheet angels while Jonny lies across him, shaking softly with laughter still and staring down at Kaner like he can’t look away. 

But a well timed roll of his hips down against Kaner’s re-focuses him. Because they have a plan, here. Except for how they really, really don’t. 

“Are you going to fuck me?” he blurts, and Jonny shivers against him. He goes up on his hands and knees over Kaner and looks down the length of him, Kaner sees one side of his mouth lift when Kaner can’t stop himself from twisting his hands into the sheets. When Jonny looks up at him he tips his head back and tries to arch up against him, just to see the way Jonny’s jaw clenches. God, he’s so fucking hot, way way hotter than anyone Kaner’s about to sleep with has any business being, Kaner thinks. Not because Kaner doesn’t deserve to bang attractive people, because hello - he’s basically a god himself - but just because that face and that body and those hands wrapping up the stupidly brilliant mind of someone who actively wants to do this with Kaner is kind of a lot for him to deal with and he hopes he doesn’t suck at this because Jonny shouting at him for being a terrible person is one thing but Jonny shouting at him for being a terrible lay is quite another, and Kaner might cry. 

He’s gonna be great at this, Kaner decides. He’s going to rock Jonny’s world. 

“I ….. yeah. _Yes_ ,” Jonny says, and the way he promises it - looking at Kaner like he’s never wanted anything more, that seals the deal. 

Kaner reaches for him and rolls them over, gets Jonny underneath him and strips his shirt out of the way, leans in and pushes his hands down along the warm curve of Jonny’s back and into the back of his jeans, over that ridiculously great ass. Jonny’s hips shift under Kaner’s hands, snapping up into the rhythm Kaner sets for them and he leans up on his elbows to catch Kaner’s mouth with his own once Kaner gets over how distracting the stretch and flex of muscle across his shoulders is. Jonny is great with his mouth, of course he is, and Kaner didn’t know kissing could be like this. It was always a means to a very different end before, something you do on the way to getting what you want. Now it’s something Kaner thinks he could happily spend a week doing, just trading messy, bruising kisses with Jonny, for once completely happy to let him take the lead and coax Kaner’s tongue into his mouth, let him drag Kaner’s bottom lip between his teeth and suck on it till it’s tingling and Jonny’s tongue dipping inside it feels like some slick magic. 

Jonny seems to have other plans, though. 

“Get naked, Kaner,” he says, his voice all rough and strained and Kaner will do anything he tells him when he does so like this. Jonny pushes his shirt up along his waist and then lets his hands rest above his hips while Kaner sits up to pull it off, drags his thumbs up along the line of Kaner’s abs. He turns his face away and shakes his head when Kaner leans in to kiss him again. 

“Uh-uh, pants first,” he says, and Kaner huffs. Only it ends up sounding more like a whimper, because who’d have thunk Jonny going all ‘good cop, bad Kaner’ on him in bed would be hot? Kaner, that’s who. He fucking knew this would be great. 

He pops the button on his jeans and starts in on his zipper but Jonny’s hands covering his stop him. 

“Slower,” Jonny says, and _jesus_. 

“Like this?” Kaner asks, dropping his hips forward and dragging his zipper open like he’s got all day to get naked for Jonny, because no way is he being the only one totally wrecked by this. 

Jonny’s thumbs rub firm little circles across the skin at Kaner’s hips and he bites his lip as he stares up at him. 

“Mmhmm, just like that, Kaner,” Jonny says, low and pleased. 

Kaner pushes his jeans down and the relief is nice, but not enough. He gets a hand around his dick and strokes himself in his boxers, the waistband caught across his wrist. He fucking loves that Jonny is watching him do this, gets harder in his hand when he looks down and sees Jonny tracking the motion of his hand, his mouth fallen open. Kaner tips his head back a little and flicks his tongue out to wet his lower lip, groans and shifts into his own touch for Jonny to see. 

Jonny makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan and gets his hands in the tangle of Kaner’s jeans around his thighs to pull him down, writhes up against him and bites Kaner’s bottom lip. Kaner’s hand is still in his underwear and when Jonny pulls him in it gets trapped between them, Jonny rocking up against the pressure of it. Kaner moves his hand against Jonny’s cock, twists his wrist to cup him through his jeans and Jonny’s mouth goes slack. He’s breathing hard, eyes closed and his cheeks flushed, and Kaner can’t believe he gets to see him like this. Can’t believe he gets to do more than that. 

He sits up to get Jonny’s jeans open and his mouth goes dry when he sees Jonny hard in his briefs - dark grey and stained black with a spot of pre-come that makes Kaner’s dick twitch. He rids them both of their jeans faster than he’s ever done anything in his life and then he leans down and pushes his face to the hot line of Jonny’s cock, mouths at his balls through his briefs. 

“Jesus - fucking - _fuck_ , Kaner,” Jonny moans, twisting a hand in Kaner’s hair and holding him there, mouth open, breathing damp against Jonny’s cock. 

Jonny pulls him up by the shoulders and pushes him onto his back up among the ten thousand pillows Jonny doesn’t need. He kisses Kaner long and slow and dirty for a minute, all tongue and panted breaths and then he pulls his boxers down and off and puts his mouth on Kaner’s dick and Kaner pretty much perishes there and then. He fists his hand in the pillows beside his head and tries and mostly fails not to buck his hips, but Jonny doesn’t seem to mind, just holds still and lets Kaner fuck his mouth as gently as he possibly can. Then he slings an arm across Kaner’s hips and holds him down, sinks his mouth down around his cock with such hot, wet, _perfection_ suction that it’s somehow better. He works his tongue down the length of Kaner’s shaft and then back up to suck on the head as he jerks him with his hand. He takes Kaner’s cock as deep as he can, and then gets up onto his knees over him and tilts his head so Kaner can get even deeper, the head of his dick reaching the back of Jonny’s throat and pushing further. Jonny pulls off with a filthy, wet pop that makes Kaner’s cock jerk against the rough, slick twist of his tongue. He grins up at Kaner and Kaner has to bite down on his own tongue and close his eyes. 

Rarely if ever has he seen such unbridled enthusiasm from Jonny, and the fact that it’s for sucking Kaner’s cock has him clutching at Jonny’s shoulder and gasping that he’s gonna come sooner than he’d like. Jonny gets his hand low and tight around Kaner’s shaft, staving off orgasm a little longer, and pulls off. 

 

“Look at me, Kaner,” he commands, scraping his nails down along the jut of Kaner’s hipbone.

 

Kaner watches as Jonny takes him deep again, opens his throat for Kaner’s cock and moans around it. He works his hand faster, the slide easy and wet with spit now and making this slick snapping sound that has Kaner’s balls drawing up full and tight. This time when Jonny pulls off he drags his tongue flat and thick up along the underside and he looks up, catches Kaner’s eye just as the tip of his tongue catches up under the the flared head of Kaner’s dick, and that’s all it takes for Kaner to come, arching up off the bed and spurting long and hard across Jonny’s mouth. 

“ _Guh_ ,” he groans, eloquent at all times. 

Jonny cleans his face with the back of his hand and sits back and wipes it off on Kaner’s underwear where it’s still hooked around one ankle. 

Kaner reaches for him again, drags him back up on top of him and kisses the taste of himself out of Jonny’s mouth, can’t touch him enough. Even after he just came he still wants Jonny so bad he can’t tell if he’s shaking from that or the aftershocks of orgasm. 

“C’mon,” he whines, trying to push Jonny’s underwear down with his toes because he doesn’t wanna take his hands out of Jonny’s hair or lose the way Jonny’s breath hitches when he tightens his fingers and tugs to angle Jonny’s head the way he wants it. 

“Pushy,” Jonny says approvingly, and Kaner grins. 

Jonny reaches for lube and a condom from his bedside table and Kaner has to stretch out along the sheets to hide the shiver of anticipation that runs right through him. 

Jonny takes his time, twisting two and then three fingers into Kaner until Kaner thinks he almost might beg. He’s nothing but grateful when Jonny encourages him to turn over, because having Jonny lean over him and watch his face intently while he pushes his fingers up inside him, getting him ready for his cock … it’s kind of intense, and while Kaner isn’t suddenly capable of shame or anything, he’s a little embarrassed by how intimate this feels, how he’s about ready to shake apart under Jonny. 

Kaner drags one knee up against the covers and holds himself open, looks back over his shoulder at Jonny and Jonny fumbles as he rolls the condom on. He pauses with the head of his cock pressed to Kaner’s hole, and the weight of the moment is something they both need to take a deep breath against. 

Jonny pushes in steadily and Kaner can feel his hands shake against the back of his thighs. It hurts, it’s not smooth or instant or easy. It’s full and it’s a lot and it’s Jonny, everything Kaner didn’t know he was waiting for. It hurts, but not enough to make it suck, and he reaches for Jonny’s hands and drags them up to grip his hips. He slowly relaxes into it, gets used to it, but still Jonny doesn’t move until Kaner starts to push back, and then he works himself slowly out and back in, easier but still so careful, being so gentle with Kaner. 

Kaner gasps and hides his face in the pillows, fists his hands in the sheets underneath them where Jonny can’t see. But Jonny stops, stills inside him and rubs a soothing hand up along his flank. 

“Are you .. is this .. okay?” he asks, and his voice is already starting to sound strained but it’s edged with concern and Kaner is so dumb, he can’t - he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t give a fuck. He lifts his face and looks over his shoulder, pushes his ass back against Jonny. 

“God, yes. Keep going. Fucking fuck me already,” he says, pleased that it comes out even half insistent instead of just plain pleading. 

It startles a laugh out of Jonny, this breathless little burst of air against the back of Kaner’s neck when he leans down to kiss him there. 

And then he’s pulling back and sinking into Kaner again, holding him with his fingers hooked in along his hipbones and fucking him with slow, deep thrusts that have Kaner’s cock filling even before he starts hitting his prostate. Jonny’s balancing his weight with his pelvis snug up against Kaner’s ass and his knees in between his on the sheets, pushing Kaner’s thighs apart for him and when Kaner rises up onto his knees a little to find purchase to push back it shifts the angle so Jonny is glancing off his prostate with every thrust. 

They’re both sweating now, working together to fill the room with the sound of their bodies coming together in wet, dull little thuds that are somehow the most obscene thing Kaner has ever heard. He didn’t know sex could be like this, he had no idea this would be like this. All these years he’s thought about it he had no experience of banging someone he actually had feelings for to factor into the fantasy, and the reality is mindblowing. This is Jonny’s skin slick against his, and Jonny’s hands reaching to pull Kaner back up into him, and Jonny’s mouth dropping helpless, half-pained groans across the pillows, and Jonny’s cock opening Kaner up around him like this is where he belongs, and Kaner loves him, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. 

So he holds on. 

He lets his head fall down between his shoulders and he breathes. 

He gets a hand around his cock and starts to jerk himself off, until Jonny knocks his hand out of the way and wraps his finger around Kaner’s dick himself, and starts to work him in perfect, tight strokes that he helps Kaner push up into by fucking him into it with perfectly timed, perfectly rough, hard thrusts. 

Jonny’s other hand drops from Kaner’s hip but he doesn’t notice until it’s pulling pillows away, searching for Kaner’s hand in the sheets, and locking their fingers together when he finds it. He leans up and presses his forehead to the curve of Kaner’s shoulder blade, pushes _in_ and stays deep, still working his hand over Kaner’s cock, and Kaner comes again, going still and half crying out, clutching at Jonny’s hand. 

Jonny pulls almost all the way out and then quickly pushes back in, coming just when Kaner spills the last of his come across his hand, jerking when he feels Jonny go rigid against him. 

They lie like that for a minute, Jonny leaning in along Kaner’s back, breathing hard, and when he starts to pull away Kaner doesn’t let himself stop him. He pulls out and presses his mouth to the top of Kaner’s shoulder and then gets off the bed.

When he comes back with a washcloth Kaner has turned onto his back and is lying staring at the ceiling, exhausted and …. happy, he thinks. 

They don’t say anything as they get cleaned up, but Jonny never leaves his side, touching his fingers to the inside of Kaner’s wrist when he passes him a fresh tshirt, leaning across him with a hand on his hip when he reaches for clean boxers. 

The climb into bed and snuggle up, comfortable in each other’s spaces but not all over one another and Kaner is asleep before he has time to even think about thinking. 

He wakes up again in the middle of the night and they’ve moved, Kaner turned onto his side and Tazer pressed up against his back, arms around him and one knee pushed forward in between Kaner’s. He doesn’t know why he woke up, but he can tell from Tazer’s breathing that he’s awake too, if he ever went to sleep in the first place. Kaner starts to turn in his arms but Tazer makes an unhappy snuffling noise and tightens his grip. He rubs his cheek up into the hair at the back of Kaner’s neck and says “Go back to sleep, Kaner,” so Kaner does. 

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

When he wakes up again, he’s alone. 

 

He reaches out and runs his hand across the sheets on the other side of the bed and they’re still a little warm but mostly cold. He tucks his hands up under his chest and rolls over to close his eyes and press his face into the pillows but the second he settles he hears the front door open and close. 

He doesn’t open his eyes. 

He doesn’t move again until the bed dips beside him and Jonny presses his freezing cold face to the dip of his back, and then he flails and shrieks. 

“You fucking asshole! I was sleeping!” he grouches, but god he’s so fucking happy he’s definitely gonna throw up from it this time. 

“You’re such a fucking liar. You think I don’t know when you’re awake?” Jonny asks, lying down next to him fully clothed and pulling the covers up from the end of the bed to tug them over them both. 

Kaner doesn’t say anything, just lies there trying really hard not to smile. 

He breaks when Jonny throws an arm over him and leans up over him on one elbow, pushing his hair out of his face. 

He smiles like it’d kill him not to, then, and Jonny laughs at him, all fond and soft. And then his face becomes serious again, that little ‘uh-oh someone’s in trouble’ wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. He stares down at Kaner and Kaner stares right back. 

“I think I .. I think I love you,” Jonny says, and Kaner’s heart stops. 

“You think?” he manages, staying very still. 

“I mean I … I do. I .. love you,” Jonny says, and he hasn’t looked away from Kaner’s face once since he came back to bed, hasn’t moved anywhere but into Kaner’s space, into Kaner’s touch. 

“Okay,” Kaner says finally, turning his face into Jonny’s chest and pretending to go back asleep. 

“ _Okay_!?” Jonny says, incredulous. 

Kaner cracks an eye open and grins up at him, and Jonny smiles down at him, and then leans in and kisses him, morning breath and all, still half grumbling like he really doesn’t want to but also doesn’t have much of a choice, which is just fine by Kaner. 

He lets him sweat while they get up and shower and go downstairs to reheat the breakfast Jonny went out to get them, and then when Jonny’s standing leaning up against the fridge, watching Kaner finish his food, Kaner crosses the kitchen and drops his dishes in the sink and fists his hands in Jonny’s hoodie and goes up on tip toe so he can kiss him slow and sweet. 

“I love you too,” he says, and wonders if he’ll ever stop smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Not true, not profiting, etc.


End file.
